


Daisuga Week 2018

by jellyryans (ryankellycc)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, check notes before each one shot!, daichi gets a tat, domestic fluff mixed with a healthy dose of insecurity and comfort and feelings, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:07:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryankellycc/pseuds/jellyryans
Summary: One shots written and collected for Daisuga Week 2018.Chapter one, day one: Soulmates (dystopian AU, fluff)Chapter two, day two: Domestic/Night (modern AU, bedtime convos, Feelings)Day three: Magic (Harry Potter AU,posted separately)Chapter three, day five: Reunion (canonverse, aged up)Chapter four, day six: Tattoos (also perhaps canonverse, aged up)Chapter five, day seven: Mafia (read warnings before chapter)





	1. Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> First prompt: Soulmates. Asanoya featured as minor pairing. Dystopian AU, mostly fluff. No violence. Some allusions to sex.

“You sure they’re not a Fated Pair?”

“Still no dude,” Nishinoya said with a huff. “Just like every other time you’ve asked.”

Tanaka peered down at Nishinoya from the top rung of the ladder, his face streaked with grime. “Come on,” he said, motioning over his shoulder. “Just look at them, singing together like they’re in one of those stupid government musicals they used to make us watch.”

Nishinoya looked between the rungs of the ladder and down the short hallway that led directly to the kitchen, where the leader of their Cell was humming to himself as he washed the team’s dishes from breakfast an hour earlier. He let the extra water run off the surface of the dish in his hand before passing it to their second-in-command, who took the dish without looking, ran a towel over it with practiced ease and stacked it with the corresponding clean dishes. The hallways of their bunker echoed something unfortunate, so Nishinoya heard them as clearly as he would’ve if their leaders were stuck in the air vents with Tanaka. 

“They’re not singing,” Nishinoya pointed out. “They’re humming, and they’re literally just washing dishes, like you and I do every Thursday morning. Does that make us a Fated Pair?”

“No, ugh, but they’re _humming_ together like they've practiced or it's second nature or something.”

Nishinoya rolled his eyes, having recognized the tune as soon as Tanaka mentioned it. “You mean the World News credits music that literally everyone in the known world can spout by pure muscle memory?”

Tanaka threw his hands up in the air with a growl of irritation, accidentally hitting his hand on the metal surface of the duct he was working on and immediately pulling it close to his chest with a loud whine, which was amplified again and again by the bunker walls. 

“See?” Nishinoya said, pointing at Tanaka’s exaggerated injury. “That’s the universe telling you to get back to work and stop talking nonsense.”

“Fine, fine,” Tanaka muttered, putting his head back into the metal opening. “But I still can’t believe they aren’t.”

Tanaka said it to himself, but Nishinoya heard him and, despite having argued about it seconds earlier, he secretly admitted that Tanaka had a point. Adjusting himself at the base of the ladder, Nishinoya rested his chin on one of the rungs so that he could watch the goings-on in the kitchen. 

Their dedicated leader, Sawamura Daichi, was still taking plates out of the sink and Sugawara Koushi, their beloved second-in-command, was still taking them out of Daichi’s hand like it was a dance that had been doing since they were born. He let himself get lost in their movements and their low-pitched notes, those of which reminded him of the nights he spent in front of the sponsored news with his grandfather. Those days weren’t too far gone, but remembering them made him feel like they were all too old for their bones. He glanced back up at Tanaka and spoke to the bottoms of his feet. “Sorry for givin’ you a hard time, Ryuu.”

Tanaka’s voice was distorted from having his head stuck in a metal tube, but Nishinoya heard him without much trouble. “Don’t worry about it, my guy. It’s just crazy, ya know.”

“I do know,” Nishinoya said, his chin once again on the ladder rung. “Like, it would be harder to believe they weren’t if Asahi-san hadn’t told me they weren’t, and Asahi-san couldn’t lie to save his skin.”

There was a loud metallic clang at the same time the ladder shifted, and Nishinoya gripped the base of the ladder to hold it steady. He felt Tanaka’s grunt through the metal legs of the contraption and held it with white knuckles as Tanaka pulled his head out of the vent, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. “Asahi-san told you outright?” 

“Yeah, he said they Chose each other.”

“When?”

Nishinoya pinched his face in thought. “I dunno, long time ago?”

“No,” Tanaka grunted, “I mean when were you and Asahi-san talking about this deep sorta stuff?”

“Just the other night or something” he said casually, trying to brush it off like he hadn’t spent the last few nights in Asahi’s cot without telling his best friend. 

“Bro,” Tanaka said, leaning an elbow on the top of the ladder, and giving Nishinoya a stern glare. “Don’t tell me we gave up everything to join this Cell when you’re just gonna go rogue on me.”

Nishinoya rubbed his face. “I’m not _tellin’_ you anything. Shimizu-senpai is still my number one, but here’s the thing. Remember what Daichi said, in the beginning?”

“Of course I do,” Tanaka scoffed. “He said that the Fated Pairs were total bullshit and love was real. We have the power to Choose who we love and no government moron should be allowed to do it for you.”

“Right,” Nishinoya agreed, leading Tanaka on, “and he also mentioned that part of the Fated Pairs bullshit was the fact that we’ve been told our whole lives that we only get one person, and Daichi-san said that wasn’t necessarily true. I took that to mean that, maybe, I can Choose more than one person?”

Tanaka tilted his head back and forth like the motion could parse the words for him, and Nishinoya held his breath. When Tanaka finally grinned down at him, he let his shoulders drop in relief. 

“You’re absolutely right, Yuu,” Tanaka said. He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving streaks of oil that would never, ever come out. “How come I’m just hearing about this now though?”

A bark of laughter, followed by a cascading fit of giggles, interrupted their conversation and drew their attention to the kitchen. 

Their leader was still in front of the sink but his nose, previously unadorned, was covered with a large dollop of foam. He stood there, blinking, with all of his muscles tensed, while their second-in-command laughed from behind his hands. 

Tanaka and Nishinoya watched in shock as Sawamura Daichi, the leader of a group of people officially deemed enemies of the World Government, dunked his hand in the soapy water and flicked whatever suds he had scooped right back into Suga’s face. Suga gasped in mock horror and tried to reach around Daichi to dip his hand in the sink again, but Daichi caught his arm and spun away from the sink, taking Suga with him. He pulled Suga close enough that he could wipe his face on Suga’s shoulder while Suga tried halfheartedly to push Daichi off, laughing the entire time.

Daichi tightened his grip around Suga’s waist and soon both of them were giggling, their shirts wet with dish water and cheeks streaked in tears. His face softened as his laughter died and he looked at Suga, leaning in to press their lips together. They stood together, foreheads touching, swaying slightly to inaudible music with their eyes closed, right in the middle of the galley. 

It was one of those rare moments, like the late at night when his bare skin was pressed against Asahi’s or the mornings when Shimizu-senpai would tell him to have a good day, when Nishinoya could pretend they weren’t stuck in a shitty underground bunker, weighed down by the fear of having everyone they love stripped away from them forever. 

Nishinoya got so lost in moment that he hit his head on ladder rung above him when Daichi shouted. 

“You two better actually be inspecting those vents!”

Daichi had his back toward them, but they got a view of Suga’s eyes over Daichi’s shoulder. “If you guys get done with enough time for the briefing, I won’t tell anyone about the noises I heard in Asahi’s room last night!” Tanaka snorted while Daichi groaned and let his forehead drop forward, into the crook of Suga’s neck. Suga, unphased by whatever Daichi was mumbling into his skin as he shook his head, winked at Nishinoya.

Nishinoya swallowed the lump that formed in the back of his throat, and was about to deny everything, but Tanaka responded, “Don’t worry Suga-san, we’re almost done!” And then, in a lower voice, “Except you better spill later, buddy. No secrets, right?”

“Right,” Nishinoya agreed. 

He snuck one last glance at Suga and Daichi, still intertwined in the kitchen, and smiled to himself as he held the ladder steady for Tanaka. Nosy friends and underground living aside, he still held out hope for all of them.


	2. Domestic/Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second prompt, day two: Domestic and/or Night. A little angsty, but only because Daichi has a lot of feelings and insecurities. Maybe part of the [Find You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461915/chapters/30860490) universe ???

The thing Daichi liked the most about their house in Sendai was that it was quiet. 

In the mornings, he drank his coffee in front of the large kitchen window without having to worry about blaring horns and angry traffic. On the weekends, he sat outside in the garden, accompanied by the welcome twittering of birds that liked to flit in and out of the flower bushes. Every night, Daichi collapsed in bed, closed his eyes and enjoying the way his small world stilled right before he fell asleep.

“One of my students drew something cool today.”

Daichi kept his eyes shut as Suga wriggled next to him, twisting the sheets. He had no problem admitting that Suga was the only person in the world that he always looked forward to talking to, but he didn’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it late at night. “The kids draw stuff all the time,” he mumbled. 

“Not all the time.”

“Then how do you explain the boxes of drawings in the closet? Or the hundreds of pictures on your phone?”

“Maybe they do,” Suga conceded, though he lingered on the phrase, and Daichi could tell he wasn’t finished. “But this drawing was especially interesting.”

“Can it be breakfast-interesting?”

“Can it be now-interesting?”

Daichi recognized a losing battle when he saw one so, instead of bringing up the fact that Suga could’ve told him when he got home from work, or over dinner, or while they were cleaning up after dinner, or while they were indulging in their nightly dose of television, he opened his eyes and shifted onto his side. He faced Suga, who was already looking back at him. “Now-interesting’s fine,” he said, settling into his new position on the mattress. 

Suga’s eyes lit up, shining even in the dark. “We were drawing animals again today during afternoon activity, and the kids usually pick out pretty standard animals from the books, like lions and tigers, right?”

Daichi nodded in agreement despite having no idea what motivated Suga’s students to choose certain animals over others or what qualified animals as standard. He thought that if he were to pick an animal out of a book, he’d probably pick something that Suga thought was standard as well. 

“So I’m peeking over everyone’s shoulder, like I always do, but when I looked at Himari-chan’s picture... You remember her?”

He didn’t remember, but nodded again, and Suga narrowed his eyes. “One of your client’s daughters? We ran into them just last week at the store?”

Daichi cleared his throat and averted his eyes, unable to withstand Suga’s piercing stare. The memory resurfaced in hazy pieces, but he really couldn’t place the girl. All he could remember was confronting a client that had been on the losing end of a case, and, even though the result had more to do with the judge being an asshole than anything Daichi could’ve done, he was embarrassed. Of course, Suga hadn’t known that because Daichi had never said anything. He told himself it was because Suga already had enough to worry about without him whining about his job, but there was more to it than that. “Sorry, Koushi,” he said, apologizing for more than just the lapse in memory. 

“It’s okay,” Suga said quietly, searching Daichi’s face in the filtered moonlight. He seemed displeased with what he found and frowned. “It can wait until morning, if you want?”

The only thing Daichi wanted was to feel Suga’s skin under his hands, so he reached out and cupped Suga’s face. He ran his thumb along Suga’s cheekbone and Suga leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “Nah,” Daichi said, allowing the feel of Suga’s skin to ward himself against the guilt that swirled through his body. “What did Himari-chan draw?”

“You sure?”

“Definitely,” Daichi said, scooting closer to Suga. 

Finally, Suga’s frown disappeared. “At first I thought it was a tapir, you know, one of those panda elephant animals.”

“Panda elephant?” Daichi repeated with a soft chuckle, moving his hand down from Suga’s face to his hip. 

Suga pushed him, but his usual strength checked by drowsiness. “You know what I mean.” Daichi knew exactly what tapirs were, but that didn’t stop him from shrugging again. “Anyway,” Suga drawled, tired but unflappable in the face of Daichi’s goading. “I thought it was a tapir, which was cool because I didn’t think there were any tapirs in the book, so I asked her about it and she actually scoffed at me and said it was a baku.”

Something tugged at the back of Daichi’s mind, but he couldn’t place it. “Baku?”

“I know, tt’s been ages since I’ve thought about them, so I asked her to remind me what exactly a baku was and, god, it was so cute, Daichi. She explained it to me like it was real, a regular ol’ magical creature that ate dreams.” 

“That is pretty damn cute,” Daichi admitted, unsure of whether he was talking about the kid’s description of the fantastic beast or the way Suga was beaming at him, his face partially covered by his pillow.

“Hey, Daichi?”

“Hm?”

Suga bit the inside of his cheek like he was chewing on his words, tasting them before he spit them out. “I know we’ve talked about this before, but have you thought at all about the meaning of dreams?”

“No,” Daichi sighed. “And you know I don’t really dream.”

“I do know,” Suga whispered. 

If they hadn’t on the verge of sleep with an early morning looming over their heads, the conversation might’ve turned into another one of their dead-end exchanges on the matter, where Suga was disappointed that Daichi didn’t put much stock into dreams and Daichi was disappointed in himself for not being able to give his partner what he wanted. 

The house was quiet again, just the way he should’ve liked it, but Suga looked so far away, and he realized the thing he liked most about his house in Sendai was sharing it with Suga. 

In the mornings, Suga drank his tea next to Daichi in front of the large kitchen window. On the weekends, Suga laid out in the garden with his book or cut flowers to put in a vase next to their bed. Every night, he let the warmth of Suga’s body lull him to sleep. 

“You do know that I love you.”

“I do know,” Suga repeated, his voice cracking as he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

Daichi closed the gap between their chests and wrapped his arms around Suga, bringing him as close as he could. Suga didn’t resist and eventually wrapped his own arms around Daichi’s waist and pulling him in just as tightly. Daichi smiled into Suga’s skin despite the rock in his stomach that sank lower and lower the more he thought about how he might not deserve the man he loved. “Maybe you’re a baku,” he said, kissing Suga’s neck. 

“What are you talking about?” Suga laughed, sending a warm puff of breath that grazed Daichi’s shoulder.

“I’m saying that maybe you’re a baku and eat all of my dreams, which is why I never have any.” 

Suga pulled back so that he could look at Daichi. He had an eyebrow raised in disbelief, but Daichi could see the smile that lurked in the corners of Suga’s lips. Daichi would blame the next part of their conversation on his lack of sleep, but he knew right then and there that every second of future humiliation would be worth it. 

“It’s the only reasonable explanation,” Daichi said. 

“You’re not making any sense,” Suga said, failing spectacularly in his attempt not to smile. He snuggled closer to Daichi, rubbing their noses together. “Did you know the baku eats nightmares as well? I read about them later, on my lunch break, and some of the myths said that the baku ate nightmares in order to protect people from bad dreams.”

Daichi yawned as he mulled over Suga’s words. “Then I guess I should thank you for protecting me.”

He was just about to drift off to sleep when he heard Suga whisper, “I try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you're [curious](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baku_\(mythology\)) about bakus, which are amazing and also so are tapirs. 
> 
> Next prompt is magic, but I'm only going to link to it in this collection. Story will be posted separately so that I can make it part of my ongoing HP series.....................


	3. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day five: Reunion. Skipped day four, but back again! Post-canon AU, some time in the future.

There were only so many times a guy could button and unbutton his shirt sleeves, and Suga felt like he had at least doubled that number in the first five minutes of the car ride. He picked at the pearly plastic button that held his sleeve around his wrist and found a string that peeked out from underneath the button. Suga tugged at it gently, wondering how much force it would take to yank the button clean off. 

Probably not much effort at all, he thought with a hum, and scolded himself for having the thought in the first place. He was meeting a group of people he hadn’t seen in years and the last thing he wanted was to show up without a button because he ripped it off on purpose. Like an animal. 

Suga let out a low growl of frustration and decided to roll up his sleeves so that he didn’t have to look at the stupid buttons anymore. He took his time though, examining each crease as he folded the fabric and triple-checking that his right and left sleeves were evenly folded. The small voice was back, telling him to forget the buttons and just rip off his sleeves, but Suga just shook his head. 

It was the anxiety talking. 

He willed himself to breathe deeply, rolling his shoulders and paying attention to the way his bones cracked and popped under his skin. 

There was no reason to be nervous. 

It was easy to lose touch with your friends after graduating. His colleagues had been genuinely surprised when he had told them that he’d be going to a reunion with his old volleyball team. They had reminisced about their own friends in high school, how they hadn’t kept in touch over years and accepted it because they had only been friends due to randomly shared interests and accidental proximity. 

Inwardly, Suga had scoffed at the idea that their shared passion for volleyball could be boiled down to a “randomly shared interest” and their friendships were owed only to geography.

Besides, it wasn’t like they had lost touch completely. Most of them still followed each other on social media, and Suga tried to keep up with the Karasuno Volleyball Club, especially since Hinata Natsu was on the team. She had even started in their last match, and thinking about it made Suga smile to himself, alone in the backseat of a stranger’s car. 

But when was the last time he had made the effort to attend one of her games, or catch up with Hinata’s parents? Was leaving a snarky comment on Tsukishima’s Instagram enough? Suga tried to remember the last time he had actually spoken to Asahi. 

His smile faded, and shame wrapped its heavy hand around his throat. 

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, Suga swiped to the camera and flipped the screen. 

He couldn’t see much, so he tried to catch the light each time a car passed. He checked his teeth and let his eyes wander over the familiar landscape of his face. 

Suga would be the first to admit that he thought he looked better now than he did in high school. His jaw was a little more defined, his chin a little sharper and his cheeks a little less round. He couldn’t see the rest of his body in the front-facing camera, but he knew that his shoulders were broader and that he liked the shape his torso made as it tapered to his waist. But there were small, barely noticeable things that reminded him of the passage of time, like the crow’s feet that crackled in the corners of his eyes and the creases that framed his mouth, lingering even after he stopped smiling. 

They were all older, further and further separated from the memories they shared. 

Even after all those years, Suga held many of them close to his heart, from the ones that made him laugh aloud in the middle of the office, like the day Nishinoya had talked Tanaka into carrying him around on his shoulders and they had pretended to be a teacher, to the ones that made him realize he’d been staring at an empty wall, holding a lukewarm cup of tea, like his graduation day.

He had lost bits and pieces of the day itself, but there were a few details he’d never forget: the way he sweat beneath his uniform, the crunch of his diploma beneath his fingers and the pregnant pauses in conversation. 

Sawamura Daichi and his big brown eyes. 

Suga rubbed his own eyes hard enough to see stars, like the pain would physically wipe away the feeling in his gut that made him want to throw up every time he thought about that afternoon. He had waited for Daichi to say something, anything, or maybe Daichi had waited for him, but, in the end, they let each other go with a hug and warm wishes for the future.

He wasn’t sad about it anymore, but Suga wondered if things could’ve turned out differently. What would’ve happened if he had told Daichi about coming to terms with his sexuality? Or if he would’ve confessed to getting distracted every time Daichi got a haircut or new pair of gym shorts? What would Daichi have said if Suga had told him about the nights he had to slap himself in the face in order to get his homework done because he couldn’t stop thinking about how shiny Daichi’s lips looked after he took a sip of water at practice?

They were just stupid kids with nothing and everything on the horizon. He couldn’t beat up his younger self with regret, but he could beat up his current for not having been better about keeping their friendship alive. 

Life was busy, that was true, but Suga had selfish motives. He avoided Daichi’s pictures on Instagram because every time he saw a selfie with Kuroo, or Bokuto, or literally anyone else, he hated himself for being jealous that they got to spend time with Daichi and he didn’t. 

Suga swallowed an annoying lump in his throat just as the cab pulled up to the address on the email invitation and stood on the curb as the car drove away. He adjusted his sleeves one more time, checked the creases and made sure that both buttons were still attached before heading up to the bar.

Hinata was the first person to accost him, jumping at him as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Tanaka was next, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the rest of the group. Asahi waved enthusiastically as they approached. Kinoshita and Nishinoya were too deep in animated conversation to notice Suga’s arrival. 

Everyone was there, even Tsukishima, who glowered through thick lenses over a hilariously pink drink.

They were all so grown-up, Suga thought, and he let his tears spill down his cheeks as he hugged each and every single one of them as hard as he could because he missed them and wanted to remind them that he was still stronger than he looked. 

After his hugs were evenly distributed, punches were given, specifically right between Asahi’s ribs, and heads were rubbed, specifically Tanaka’s short curls, Suga finally wiped his eyes. 

There was only one person missing.

Asahi, babying his side, pointed to the bar. “Daichi’s getting drinks,” he said with a smile so understanding that Suga wanted to hit him again. “He’ll probably need some help carrying them.”

Suga thanked Asahi instead of jabbing him again, momentarily proud of his restraint, and excused himself. He squeezed his way through the crowd, in the direction Asahi had indicated, and was a full ten feet away from bar when he saw him. 

Sawamura Daichi sat on a stool and watched the bartender as they added drinks to the collection of frosty glasses in front of him. The person on the stool next to his must’ve said something, because Daichi turned his head and smiled as his lips moved in response.

He had always been handsome, and Suga knew that hadn’t changed, but no amount of Instagram stalking could’ve prepared Suga for that moment, and he was legitimately worried that he wouldn’t be able to pull enough air into his lungs and he’d just pass out right in the middle of the crowded bar.

He considered turning around and telling everyone that something had come up, but rejected the idea immediately. He hadn’t been a quitter in school and certainly wasn’t a quitter now. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted a name he hadn’t called in years. 

“Daichi!”

Daichi spun around so fast that he had to catch himself on the edge of the bar. He stared at Suga for approximately half a second before pushing off the bar and closing the space between them. 

“Suga,” he said, gawking at Suga like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He couldn’t make too much fun of Daichi, however, because he couldn’t drink in the details of Daichi’s face fast enough. “Been awhile, huh?” 

“Yeah, it has.”

Suga noticed the tips of Daichi’s fingers twitching, like he was holding himself back. He made the decision then and there that never wanted Daichi to hold back. “You gonna hug me or what?”

“Please,” Daichi said breathlessly. 

Enveloped in Daichi’s arms, Suga breathed him in, hoping his legs would hold him up and his heart would keep him strong as he prepared himself for both the shortest and longest night of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day six, coming tomorrow... be prepared for actual fluff (I promise, very few Feelings).


	4. Tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day six: Tattoos. Also maybe canon universe but aged up characters? Mentions of tattoo guns and needles and a wee bit of blood (in the note at the end).

“If Asahi can get over it, so can you.” 

Daichi stared back at Suga, who tapped his toe against the concrete sidewalk. “God, Suga, when you put it like that.”

“I put it like that because it’s the truth.”

He couldn’t fault Suga for being right. Somewhere between high school graduation and university, Asahi had put more and more effort into the doodles he used to draw in school, and then came to dinner one night with a tattoo, surprising the hell out of everyone. Suga couldn’t speak for a full five minutes. Asahi had claimed that the constant buzzing and light burn of a tattoo gun was more meditative than terrifying. They had thought it was a fluke, Asahi having been pain-averse and, quite frankly, a giant baby the entire time they’d known him, but now the guy was not only covered in ink but also tattooing professionally at a place that had gotten some of the best reviews in all of Sendai. Suga had pointed out that there weren’t that many tattoo places to begin with, but, at the time, Daichi had wanted to give Asahi the benefit of the doubt. 

“You’re the one who wanted to do this in the first place, remember?” Suga cooed in a way that Daichi imagined sharks might coo if they wanted to lull their next meal into a false sense of security before chomping. 

“I know.”

“So are we going to stand outside the shop all day like we’re casing the joint or are we going to go in and make your appointment on time?”

“We’re going to go in,” Daichi grumbled. 

“Great!” Suga said, putting his arm through Daichi’s and pulling them into the building.

The tattoo parlor itself was on the third floor, and Suga kept their arms linked as they walked down the hallway and rode the elevator. Deep down, Daichi knew that Suga pressed himself against Daichi because Suga knew that he appreciated feeling the familiar weight against his side, but it was also possible Suga was holding on to prevent escape attempts. 

When they entered the shop, Asahi jumped out of the receptionist’s seat and greeted them. Suga reached across the counter with his other arm to punch Asahi’s watercolor bicep. He did it every time they saw each other, but Asahi acted surprised, like his reaction was just a another part of a ceremonial greeting. 

After formalities, they followed Asahi to his room and, even though it was only fifty feet away, Daichi’s body sagged. Dread clawed its way out of his gut, climbed into his lungs and spread into his shoulders, settling nicely as a dull thudding in the back of his head. Much to his horror, he started to tremble. It wasn’t observable, mercifully, but there was no way that Suga hadn’t noticed. Instead of calling him out, however, Suga pulled him closer and put his opposite hand on the crook of Daichi’s arm, steadying him with a firm squeeze. 

Suga might heap enormous piles of shit on people, but he knew how to clean the floor and make it sparkle. 

The room was tiny, with just a few drawings neatly taped to the wall and a tidy desk shoved in the corner. It smelled like hand sanitizer, but Daichi found the smell of sterility more comforting than he thought he would. 

“Daichi, you can take a seat, if you want?” 

Suga snorted. “You going to tattoo him standing up?”

“Right, yeah,” Asahi said with short bursts of breath. “Please sit,” he directed with slightly more confidence, motioning to the shiny leather seat in the center of the space. 

Daichi quietly did as he was told because he didn’t trust himself enough to speak. Asahi motioned to Daichi’s shirt, so he took it off, having already discussed where and what he wanted tattooed in great detail over at least three dozen cups of coffee. Suga licked his lips and winked, perched on the counter opposite where he sat, when Daichi passed him his shirt. 

Asahi smoothed the transfer paper with the temporary outline of the tattoo Asahi had drawn on Daichi’s bare pectoral muscle. The paper was damp, and Daichi winced as Asahi held it against his skin. He pressed the edges down gingerly and ran a palm over the whole thing one last time. Daichi took note of his professionalism, but wondered if this might be some elaborate prank Suga had somehow set up over the years. He couldn’t quite believe that this was the same Asahi who whined for a full week after getting a paper cut. 

He made the mistake of looking from Asahi to Suga, who was watching Asahi touch Daichi’s skin with unfettered glee. Daichi swallowed hard as the blush from his face spread down his neck and pigmented his chest. Suga, much to his credit, held his laughter by pressing his lips together so tightly they lost color.

Once the transfer was done and Asahi peeled off the paper, Daichi looked down at the feathers that fell from his collar bone. They weren’t detailed enough to look like actual feathers yet, but Asahi had shown him countless drawings and examples of what they’d look like and reassured him that the transfer paper was just a guide. 

“Just have to do a little bit of prep, and then we’ll get started,” Asahi said, his voice encouraging and soft. 

Daichi nodded, leaning his head back on the chair. He was still nervous, but he had prepared for this moment for months. And, like Suga had said, this had been his idea.

He turned his head toward Asahi, but he was fiddling with his tattoo gun. It looked much bigger than he remembered and the nerves he had tried to suppress earlier exploded like fireworks under his skin. He gripped the sides of the chair. 

While Daichi panicked, Suga had jumped down off the counter and grabbed another chair so that he was sitting right next to Daichi. He pushed the hair off Daichi’s forehead, which was damp with sweat. 

“You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he whispered into Daichi’s ear.

Daichi pulled away to look at Suga and marveled at how cute he was when he frowned in concern. A chuckle bubbled up from deep inside of him, breaking the tension and easing his nerves like a balm. “You’d never let me hear the end of it.”

It must’ve been the right thing to say because Suga kissed him on the cheek. “That’s true, but if you really don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I do,” Daichi said with a nod. And he did, realizing how true it was only after he heard himself say it.

“Great!” Suga said. “Asahi, get started before he changes his mind and we have to listen to him debate it for another year.”

“It wasn’t a year!”

Suga pretended to count on his fingers. “Fine, eleven months.”

“No way.”

“It felt like longer,” Asahi said quietly, dipping the needle of the tattoo gun into the small well of black ink he had set up while Suga and Daichi were talking. 

Daichi glared at Asahi. “Better shut your mouth if you want a tip.”

Asahi bit back a smile and told Daichi to lay back on the chair and try his best to relax. He did, only closing his eyes once he felt Suga grab his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did i do it? Was that... fluff? Idk. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!! Tomorrow, last but not least, mafia!
> 
> Also, a lil extra snippet because i wrote it and liked it but couldn't find a way of putting it in the fic without adding a million words. i was thinking they'd be relaxing on their couch that night, after the tattoo session.
> 
> \---
> 
> “And you only cried once,” Suga said, rubbing Daichi’s stomach and resting his chin on his shoulder, Daichi’s back against his chest.
> 
> “I didn’t cry,” Daichi whined, resisting the urge to pick at the plastic that was over his chest in order to get at the skin that burned underneath. 
> 
> “Aw, it was only a little.”
> 
> “If I cried, which I didn’t,” Daichi snapped, snuggling further back into Suga and pulling his arms around his stomach, “It was because Asahi made me bleed. There was blood, Suga.”
> 
> Daichi felt Suga inflate his lungs and laught. “It was literally the tiniest bit of blood.”
> 
> “Still blood,” Daichi said with a pout. 
> 
> Suga kissed the side of his neck. “It was very manly crying, though.”
> 
> Daichi groaned, partially in annoyance but mostly because Suga’s lips continued their journey up Daichi’s neck. Suga bit down lightly on Daichi’s earlobe, making him squirm.
> 
> “If anything, the tears made you more attractive.”
> 
> “I highly doubt that,” Daichi panted. 
> 
> Suga stopped his ministrations. “You callin’ me a liar?”
> 
> “Was it the tears or is it the tattoo that made me more attractive?”
> 
> Suga giggled into the nape of Daichi’s neck. “Definitely the brave, manly crying. But the tattoo certainly doesn’t hurt.”
> 
> “Except it does hurt,” Daichi corrected. 
> 
> He could feel Suga roll his eyes, even if it couldn’t see his face. “Oh my god, here we go again.”


	5. Mafia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seventh prompt: Mafia. Warnings for blood, violence, guns. Have you ever seen an [art](http://nekokat42.tumblr.com/post/175017493257/pale-crowsketch-commission-for-justaidenarts) that changed you as a person ?

Suga put his hands under the brown water dribbling from the faucet, adding scarlet to the sepia pool at the bottom of the sink. He let the questionable water run over the back of his hands while he turned his head and examined the rest of his exposed skin in the mirror. It was dirty, chipped around the edges and flecked where the reflective backing had rubbed off over time. Suga would’ve bet at least two of his fingers that it hadn’t been cleaned since whatever manufacturing company had been using the warehouse before shutting down years ago.

He made a mental note to check the location personally next time, but had to admit that despite the dingy bathroom, cracked concrete floors and the rats scrabbling around in the walls, it wasn’t the worst place he had ever worked. 

For one thing, the running water was great, even if it wasn’t drinking quality. There was also ample space for Suga to work and dark alleyways enough to cover their tracks. Finally, he appreciated that the old warehouse was well-insulated from the outside world. No cell phones. No neighbors. No trouble. 

Suga dropped the towel he used to dry his hands and peeled the shirt off his back. The flickering light overhead exposed crimson droplets that crawled over the cotton like ants. The blood would never come out, and it served him right for wearing such a nice shirt to work. He stuffed it, along with the towel and his other articles of clothing, into an unmarked trash bag. 

He was still a little miffed that he had to throw away the shirt, but if the worst part of the job was that he couldn’t hang on to clothing, he had it pretty good, and the shirt’s unfortunate end was all but forgotten as he unzipped the garment bag hanging on the door. Checking his hands one more time, he ran them over the sleeves of the suit jacket and took the expensive fabric between his fingers. He wasn’t a stranger to nice things, but the suit, perfectly tailored specifically for that evening, had been a gift. 

Wary of the time, he extricated the suit from the bag and put the pieces on as quickly as he could while still enjoying the way the fabric glided over his skin.

Suga wished he had a full length mirror and proper lighting to admire the way his neck disappeared into the starched collar of the shirt or follow the sharp creases that drew attention to his legs. His only comfort was that his date, who had gifted him the suit, would do enough ogling for the both of them.

There were two quick raps at the door, followed by a third. Suga took just a few seconds to finish tucking in his shirt before opening the door. 

“Jack, hey, uh, I think we got a problem.”

Suga felt his lip twitch. “Do we have a problem or do you have a problem?”

The guy on the other side of the door toed a crack in the floor. “I’ve got a problem.”

Not many people knew much about the Jack of Hearts, even within the family. He wasn’t invisible, but he stood on the sideline until he was needed and when he was he got the job done. Suga prided himself on dependability as well as his ability to step back and let others shine when it was the best course of action.

Before joining the family, Suga had a reputation. There were too many bars in too many cities that knew his face well enough to call the cops as soon as they saw him. The people who didn’t like him used his propensity for violence as an excuse to get the authorities involved and the people who liked him had just gotten tired of cleaning up after him. He had grown a lot since joining the King, but he was only a man with moments of weakness. 

Tanaka Ryuunosuke, who stared unhappily at the ground in front of him, had been there during one of those moments. Suga had known the King wouldn’t be happy, but a guy looked at Suga the wrong way and once Suga had started throwing punches, he couldn’t stop. Tanaka, a complete stranger at the time, had thrown himself into the brawl. He had managed to break Suga out of his trance, but only after his fist had collided with Tanaka’s face and broken his nose. 

Suga never figured out why Tanaka had gotten himself involved, because he hadn’t given a shit about the guy Suga had bloodied, but he was grateful that Tanaka had risked his own life to stop Suga from killing that guy. 

If Tanaka hadn’t been there, Suga might’ve seriously jeopardized his standing with the King.

To repay the favor, Suga had brought Tanaka to their house doctor to have his nose patched up. The doctor, that loose-lipped bastard, had told the King about Suga’s indiscretion and Tanaka’s intervention. Fortunately for the doctor, Suga had only gotten and earful, and something about the incident struck a chord with the King. Tanaka was immediately brought into the fold. 

Time and time again, Tanaka proved his loyalty to both Suga and he family, and, most importantly, he never brought up that night again. 

Tanaka coughed, interrupting Suga’s impromptu trip down memory lane. “The guy, he uh…”

“I haven’t got all night, Five.”

“He started talkin’ about his little girl again and I couldn’t do it.” 

Tanaka was one of the good ones. Sadly, it was an unfortunate quality to have in their line of work. 

Suga frowned, working through the options in his head. He had already changed into his nice suit and, at this rate, he’d be late. Secretly, Suga was more upset that the guy could still talk. People who were taken in by the Jack shouldn’t be able to talk, plain and simple. If the King would just let him conduct business his own way, the targets wouldn’t be able to blubber uselessly about their families and mess with his people’s heads. The King was strict about unnecessary violence, but Suga might have to renegotiate his allowance next time they spoke business. 

Tanaka hung his head lower, and Suga resigned himself to his fate. He grabbed Tanaka in a headlock and rubbed the top of his head with as much force as he could spare without wrinkling his suit. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks Jack,” Tanaka murmured, accepting Suga’s dose of light corporal punishment.

Suga released him and smoothed his jacket. “You just make sure disposal is ready.”

“You got it. Thanks boss.”

Suga kissed Tanaka on the cheek and smacked him as he walked past, down a short hallway and into a large room. Avoiding the puddles of blood, he made his way toward a slumped figure in a chair. The man whimpered through swollen lips, but Suga just rolled his eyes as he picked up a gun from the small table next to him.

Before the man could keep him from his date any longer, Suga put a bullet in his head. 

An hour later, Suga sat in the back of his unmarked car with all of the interior lights on and checked his clothing and skin. When he was satisfied, he patted the driver on the shoulder and stepped out of the car, making his way toward the restaurant. 

The host nodded at Suga when he walked through the doors. He was a familiar enough face at the establishment, but the host’s eerie silence meant that his date was already there. Suga’s stomach flipped. 

The restaurant was practically empty, and it only took one look around the dining area to spot his date, seated at his usual table near the back. Suga sucked in a breath. 

He must’ve known that Suga had come in, but he didn’t look up from his phone. Suga was grateful for the couple of seconds he got to admire the guy. He licked his lips as he eyed the way his date’s broad shoulders filled his finely tailored suit jacket and he laughed quietly when he noticed the red pocket square wasn’t folded properly.

They had only been on three official dates, but Suga had known the man for longer, respected him for about as long and had loved him even longer than that. 

His date looked up just as Suga got to the table and stood, awkwardly pulling Suga’s chair out for him. Suga smiled, hoping that it came off as coy but absolutely sure that he couldn’t hide the joy that bubbled over when he realized that his date might be just as nervous as he was. 

“Hi Daichi,” Suga said, wanting to memorize the way the name felt rolling off his tongue. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not at all,” Daichi said quickly, looking down at the linen tablecloth like he was trying to hide the smile that crept up on him. “I’m just glad you’re here safely.” He poured another glass of wine from the bottle that had been aerating on the table. “How was work?”

“It was fine,” Suga said, waving the question away with a flick of the wrist. “But I didn’t come here to talk about work.” He stretched his leg until his foot found Daichi’s ankle under the table.

“Music to my ears,” Daichi said, about to say something else but stopping himself when his eyes caught at Suga’s neck. 

Suga followed Daichi’s gaze and realized with horror that there was a drop of blood on his collar. He tried to swallow the bile that rose like a tidal wave in his throat as his date’s brow furrowed deeper. He had been so careful, even after having to silence that guy for Tanaka, and cursed himself for everything and anything he could think of until Daichi cleared his throat to get his attention.

“Don’t worry about it,” Suga said, forcing a casual smile and picking up his glass, swirling the wine in the bottom. 

Daichi’s face softened. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Suga said, breathing for the first time in what felt like years. He was sure Daichi would’ve been mad, or annoyed, or grossed out, but he looked concerned. “Better than okay,” he said honestly, rubbing Daichi’s ankle with the toe of his shoe. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Daichi said, leaning forward and looking at Suga like he was the best thing Daichi had ever seen. Suga thought briefly of flinging the table aside and kissing the man senseless, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Not on their fourth date, at least. 

“Ready to see a menu?” Daichi asked. “I had the chef prepare a few different things because I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for after work.”

Suga bit back a smile. “I could eat anything.” 

“Well, you’re getting a choice anyway.” 

Without having to signal, a waiter approached the table with two menus. Suga took one and scanned it, blushing when saw the design at the bottom of the freshly printed cardstock. 

Two playing cards, the King of Hearts and his Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! 
> 
> So grateful for every comment, reblog, like, kudos and SO PUMPED to go back and explore all of the other submissions on [tumblr](https://daisugaweek2018.tumblr.com/) and cry over the amount of talent and passion and love that some of my favorite creators have poured into this week.


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